The Phoenix and the girl with fire in her hair
by The Sun The Moon The Truth
Summary: Allison watched over Lydia as she and the Deputy grew closer. And she watched as their lives entwined themselves together. Until Allison no longer needed to watch over her. Or, the one where Lydia and Parrish fall in love through Allison's eyes.
1. The girl who played with fire

**So uh, yeah, this is just an idea that popped into my head. Hope you guys like it.**

**I OWN NOTHING.**

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* * *

Allison had lived, and died by the code. Her code.

_Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes._

We protect those who cannot protect themselves.

She had followed it in life, and she now followed it in death.

She watched over Lydia. Lydia who, although was no longer human, still had screaming as her only defense. Stiles, she felt, no longer needed protecting. The Nogitsune had left him with the strength that it had used against them. He could protect himself.

Which was why Allison wasn't quite sure what to think when Deputy Parrish entered the Banshees life. Was he friend, or foe?

Unfortunately, death did not reveal the secrets of the universe. Bummer.

So, Allison watched over Lydia as she and the Deputy grew closer. And she watched as their lives entwined themselves together.

Until Allison no longer needed to watch over her.

* * *

The first time they met, Allison immediately saw the connection between them. Being dead made you more sensitive to living things.

It didn't help that he was pointing a gun at her friend though.

She watched as they interacted, noting Lydia's casually checking the Deputy out. He seemed weary of her, and was convinced that she was definitely not your average teenage girl. Their was a slight attraction in his eyes, but she respected that he ignored it, seeing that he was dealing with a minor.

It was nice to know that Gentlemen weren't an extinct species yet.

As Lydia found the passage that led to the freezer, Allison (while screaming at Lydia to get out, she didn't want her to have to see what was in that meat locker) saw that he took the lead, and after discovering what was really going on in the Walcott house, his second priority (first being calling for back up) was comforting Lydia. He gave her his jacket as the waited for the Police to arrive, making sure she wasn't too shaken up.

He did seem a bit disturbed at the redheads lack of reaction though, subconsciously recognizing that she too, had seen horrors far beyond what should have been her comprehension.

* * *

The first time he rescued her, she was with Stiles. They had been trapped in a room and there was a Bezerker on their tale.

Allison had been screaming at them to leave the building ever since they set foot in it and she was reminded of how useless she was in death. She wished that she could get through to Lydia.

He had bust the door open after hearing their cries for help, and had immediately grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from striking distance.

He had known for a while that there was something strange going on in Beacon Hills, you had to be stupid not to, but it had cracked a piece of his mind, knowing that monsters, the things that hid in the dark, were all real.

It was Lydia who fixed the crack. Whose presence paved over the crevice healing and soothing the fear that had infected his heart like a virus. It was her that purged the terror of what was to come from his system.

* * *

The first time Allison got through to Lydia, they were in the Sheriffs office. Allison had invited her to Bardo, so she could finally give her friend the missing puzzle piece and Lydia had accepted without any hesitation whatsoever.

They hadn't know that only her soul could enter the inbetween, and so, to all in the precinct, the girl seemingly collapsed.

As Allison told her friend what she needed to hear, after a heartfelt reunion, Peter, Stiles, Stiles' Dad, and a Mr. Jordan Parrish were all panicking for their friend.

It was Peter who had to remind Parrish to check the girls pulse and to stop freaking out as it was obviously doing her no good.

When she finally woke up, she was tackled into an unexpected hug from the pack as well as the Deputy, before explaining what she had found out, as well as who had told her.

He had looked her in the eyes and declared that she most definitely was psychic.

* * *

The first time he heard heard her scream, Allison watched as it all clicked in his head, as the understanding of what Lydia Martin truly was, was filed away into his brain.

It had happened at the school. Someone had been set on fire and upon reaching the scene he watched in a horrific fascination, as something that felt ancient and powerful exploded from her lips for all to hear. The scream made every hair on his body stand on end, sent the utmost terror and the darkest sorrow into the hearts of all those who lived in Beacon Hills. It was a scream that shook the earth and panicked animals. It was devastating.

When she had finish, it was him that took her back to her late grandmothers lake house, at her request. He sat with her as she closed her eyes silently begging for help from anyone who would listen.

He was startled out of his wits when the Tate girl burst through the door, genuine concern in her eyes as she asked Lydia if she was okay. It was a uniquely beautiful sight to behold, as something in the way that Lydia seemed purely touched by the WereCoyote as she fretted over her, almost as if this was the first time she was allowing affection for the strawberry blond.

(Malia explained to him a few years later that she knew Stiles cared for Lydia, and as she cared for the Stilinski boy, she began to care for Lydia, in her own special way.)

* * *

The first time he kissed her had been an act of passion. She had been held hostage by a Bogatyr. An ancient shapeshifter of Russian descent. He had attempted to absorb the power of the Nematon, using her as a conductor for it. It was as if he had forgotten that she could still scream and every Supernatural creature in Beacon hills would come running to her aid.

The McCall pack was an immensely respected one, their leader being a true Alpha as well as having a Banshee blessed by the Morrigan with them.

The pack had, of course rescued her, and Parrish, buzzing in relief, had kissed her as if it was going out of fashion. Allison had watched, gobsmacked, as he ravish her mouth with a bruising force, before pulling away for air and tucking her into his chest.

"Took you long enough." Lydia had mumbled into his chest.

* * *

The first time they slept together, Allison faded ever so slightly. She wasn't afraid, she realized. It meant things were improving and they Lydia was moving on.

She hadn't watched, but Lydia had given her all the gory details afterwords, as is the norm for all besties.

They had just defeated a pack of Furies, and Lydia had gotten quite scratched up. Parrish had taken her to his apartment, and sat her down on his couch. They had recently discovered that Phoenix's could use their power to heal others, but it could only be done in a rather intimate method. He first kissed her palm, watching it heal at a rate faster that Scott could manage, before he began to trail more kisses up her arm that had been littered with small cuts and bruised. His lips found their way to her shoulder, and by then bother of their eyes had darkened considerably, and Lydia's breathing had become increasingly shallow and fast paced.

His mouth ghosted up to her pulse point, nipping and sucking at it as she moaned in pleasure, spurring him on to continue his ministrations with a rising fervor. He pushed her back onto the couch, as he hovered over her continuing to attack her senses, her inguries vanished and forgotten.

He marked her flesh until he was satisfied, before slowly, teasingly brushing her hair away, as he found her weak spot right between her shoulder and her neck causing her eyes to roll back into her head in ecstasy and her back to arch into him.

As the night plowed on, neither of them noticed that all the bulbs in his apartment shattered and all his furniture became scorched, unable to withstand the heat of a mating Phoenix.

* * *

The day they got married was the day Allison finally moved on, her soul ready to be reborn. None of them (sans Peter) could remain dry-eyed. But they were happy that she could finally move on.

Because Lydia now had her own protector.

* * *

The day they had their first child, a baby girl by the name of Allison Deaton Parrish, was the day the saw the huntress again, she had the same eyes, and the same dimpled smile that enchanted everyone who saw it.

She was fluent in French.

She became a social worker slash emissary, although she did always have a talent with a bow.

But she still protected people.

_Especially those who could not protect themselves._


	2. The man who's heart was an inferno

**So, yeah. This idea just popped into my head after I watched 4x12. It can be a part of the first chapter or an independent one-shot. You pick.**

**I OWN NOTHING!**

**Hope you guys like. Reviews are my lifeline, please send them.**

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Parrish had finally had a good nights sleep. After rescuing Chris, going to Mexico and defeating the Berserkers, he could finally sleep easy.

It felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.

He had a tendency to take investigations a little personally. The Sheriff had tried to give him some advice, but honestly, he though it was a good way of solving the crime.

He hoped that was why he had been rather protective of Lydia lately. It wasn't that he couldn't get her out of his head, more like, he needed to know that she had come out alright as well. He himself had been held at gunpoint once, being ordered not to diffuse a bomb. So, he supposed he could relate to how she might be feeling and knew that she might want to talk to someone who had been through the same ordeal.

Yes, he knew that she was very beautiful and he could appreciate that, but she was still a teenage girl and he did not want to take advantage of her. And there were far more attractive women out there.

Or, so he told himself.

When the Banshee in question sauntered into the Police station she had quickly explained to him everything that had gone on. Giving him a view of the full picture. She liked talking to him. She had told him so herself, after she had confided in him about how she felt that she still hadn't had the chance to properly grieve over Allison, how she felt that she couldn't talk to the pack about it, how she had no idea how to help people if she was the weak link in the pack.

So it came as a bit of a surprise when she declared that she had brought him something.

"When my powers first started working, I thought I was going insane." She admitted, smiling wryly. " I had no idea how to control them, no idea how they could help people and no idea what I was."

He listened to her attentively, knowing that she was someone he could relate to.

"I more or less figured out that if I stopped fighting them, I might learn how to control them." She paused to lick her plump lips. "But it was so much better when I could finally put a name to what I was. Knowing that you're not human, but not knowing what you are...it was terrible. Which is why I brought you this." She smiled as she went to take something out of her bag, leaving at his desk for a few seconds.

_What is that? _He couldn't help but think. The thought must have been expressed on his face -or maybe she really was psychic- because she answered his silent question soon after.

"It used to be on a hard drive, but we thought it would be best if we printed a copy."

"What is it?" He asked, looking up at her as she put the book on his desk.

"It's called a bestiary," she told him, turning to look at him as he opened a page at random. "whatever you are...it might be in there."

He whipped his head back in surprise.

_"I'd like to help you figure it out." _

He blinked, disbelief and gratitude brimming in his senses.

And then, for some odd reason, he was very tempted to kiss her.


	3. The spark the lit the flame

**Hey! OH MY GOOOOOOOOD! I haven't updated in like forever!**

**My muse took a vacation, school started, I was in a play, I had to go to the doctors...I just haven't had the chance. It's been one thing after another!**

**But anyway, here is another chapter, hope you guys like.**

**Remember, reviews mean the world to me. I love feedback!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Lydia Martin.

Lydia _freaking _Martin.

The girl was an enigma.

After being set on fire, not burning to death, causing the Sheriff to get shot and beating the crap out of a fellow Deputy, there she was. After he had gotten dressed, she had led him to her car and told him that they wee going to see a friend of hers. Derek.

As in Derek Hale.

They reached his loft, where he was hoping to find some answers. Not the son of and FBI Agent.

Were they all psychic? Was that what this was all about?

Were there more people like Lydia in Beacon Hills? And how had he missed this?

Wait. Not psychics. Werewolves.

Werewolves? And Banshees? But no psychics?

And what the hell was a Kanima?

But back to the point.

Lydia was a Banshee. As in the wailing woman of Irish mythology? It made sense, it a rather morbid way, how she always managed to find bodies, thus securing her a reputation with Beacon County's Police department.

Her Grandmother had been one too, of course.

So this was it. None of these people were human. Monsters were real.

And he was one of them.

But, as he listened to Lydia telling them the story of how her Mothers Mother had predicted how the woman she loved would die at the hands of Mother nature, how it took them four whole days to find her body, how her Grandmother had began to investigate her abilities. And how it had caused the mental demise of Meredith Walker. The girl who Lydia believed she drove to suicide.

As she told the story, all he could think...How could these people be monsters?

* * *

"Remove you thumb from the needle and slowly withdraw it from her neck!" All those people, he had killed all of those people, and now he was going to kill Lydia.

Parrish couldn't let that happen. His words were cool and collected, but his heart was pounding inside his chest. Anything could go wrong, the small strawberry blonde could die, just like that.

The murderer stood up, without removing the needle from the small girls neck.

So he shot him.

* * *

He kept an eye on her as she slept, his coat draped over her like a blanket, something that she had taken reluctantly at his insistence.

He himself was reluctant to admit, that the small girl meant something to him. She must have, otherwise why else would he have reacted to violently to the threat on her life?

As he watched her, a small part of him couldn't help but think, that maybe, just because he wasn't human, didn't mean that he was a monster.

Lydia certainly wasn't.

As he dropped her off at home later, after the entire Peter and Meredith fiasco, he walked her to her porch, she seemed to realize that she was still wearing his jacket.

"Oh, sorry!" She quickly unzipped it, intending on returning it quickly.

"Nah, it's fine. You can bring it back tomorrow." He reassured her.

"Are you sure?" The girl bit her lip, an action that brought his attention to her mouth, stained red from all the fretting she had been doing lately.

"Uh, yeah." Caught in the moment, he slowly began to zip the jacket up again. "It's no problem at all."

She gave him a coy look, before standing on her tiptoes and leaning in. It seemed as if time had slowed down, as her felt her warm breath on his face and his heart skipped a beat, before he felt her gently pressing her lips to his cheek. "Thanks for saving my life." She murmured against his skin, before scurrying inside her house and closing the door on his face.

He stood there for a few moments, his mouth hanging open and his ears burning, before coming to his senses and shaking his head.

What had he done? This was a seventeen year old girl! Not someone he could flirt with like that, he chastised himself.

But even so, as he stepped into his police cruiser, he unconsciously led his hand up to the spot where her she had kissed his skin.

Lydia _freaking _Martin.


	4. Where there's smoke, there's fire

**Hey! OH MY GOOOOOOOOD! I haven't updated in like forever!**

**_I am so sorry you guys!_  
**

**I just haven't come up with anything to write! Gah!  
**

**Anyway, I do hope you guys like this chapter so...enjoy!**

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She didn't know where she was, which really sucked. Like, a lot.

She couldn't call Scott to come find her, he already had enough on his plate. Stiles was probably with Malia (she was happy for him, _really, _she was. But she had to admit, it had been nice to have someone like her the way Stiles had. Sure she could have guys drooling within seconds, but Stiles had simply adored her for who she really was. She could never forget that.), Derek, the poor guy, was probably spending every free second trying to figure out what the hell had happened to him. She couldn't call Kira. The Kitsune was great and everything, but Lydia would normally call Allison in this type of situation, she wasn't really ready to change that just yet.

So, she had to get out of this mess herself.

She was in a house. That much she knew, who's house however? She had no clue.

She passed in front of what she guessed was the front door, before wandering into another room, curious about why her Banshee gifts had brought her here. She was so lost in thought, she didn't even notice when someone entered the house, didn't even hear him yell. Didn't even know that she was no longer alone in the house until she wandered back into the main hall and almost did a double take as she suddenly found her self staring down the barrel of a gun.

Whoever the hell it was seemed to sigh in a mixture of relief and annoyance as they put the gun back in its holster. She read 'Deputy Parrish' on his uniform.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He didn't seem to be angry when he asked the question, just disbelieving.

She honestly didn't know the answer to that question, so she gave him the closest answer to the truth that she could.

"I would try to explain it, but I've never gotten a satisfactory explanation myself." She told him as she glided into another room, wondering if she was only imagining the feeling of his eyes reluctantly traveling down her body. She had forgotten what it felt like to know that a guy was checking her out, she hadn't realized that she had missed the feeling of power that came along with it.

"Just an unusual habit of showing up at places where people have been brutally murdered?" She paused. With all the dead bodies she had found lately, she should have realized that the other police officers would have started to talk about it. She turned around.

"Are you saying I have a reputation?"

"An unusual one." So the other Deputies _were _talking about her. Did the Sheriff know about it? "Maybe your psychic?" The question was phrased like an offering.

She gave him a blank look, trying to seem like she was ridiculing him internally. 'Psychic' wasn't anywhere near 'Werewolf', but it was an uncomfortably close answer to the truth of what she was.

"Don't tell me _you _believe all that?" She scoffed, while unashamedly checking him out.

_Hmm, cute and smart._

She dismissed that train of thought immediately, there was no time for boys when there were people lives at stake.

She quickly strode past him, hearing the whispering of voices that some part of her knew to belong the the deceased.

"I'd like to say I don't believe in anything," He told her, cocking his head. "but I keep an open mind." Somebody really ought to have told him how dangerous that was in Beacon Hills.

She followed the sound of the voices, leading her to a wooden panel on the wall. It looked like there were screaming faces running down the wood, something that must have been a result of the whispers leaking through the wall.

"If your looking for dead bodies, I think your a little late." The Deputy pointed out.

"No," she wanted to tell him, "no I'm really not."

She applied pressure onto the wood, feeling something click before she released it, allowing the part of the wall to slide away and greet her with a blast of cold air.

Her head whipped round to look at the Deputy, suddenly feeling rather small and insecure, wishing that her best friend was here with her.

The Deputy cocked his gun, before approaching the entryway.

Lydia followed him into a tunnel, rubbing her arms to fend off the cold sensation, the thin material of her shirt giving no form of defense against the low temperature. The Deputy looked back at her, as if surprised that the small strawberry blond would follow him.

They approached another door, the Deputy opening it to reveal what looked like a huge walk-in fridge.

"I think it's a game locker." Her companion supplied. "Like Venison." He approached one of the bags hanging from the ceiling. "Hunting's legal in some parts of the state, but..." he trailed off, seeming uncertain, as he slowly dragged down the zip on the bag.

"What is it?" She asked, dreading the answer that she already knew.

A woman's head peeked out of the bag, her eyes open and glassy, as if she was merely lost in thought.

"It's not venison."

They both stared at it for a long moment, before Lydia broke the silence. "How lovely."

The Deputy snapped out of whatever trance he seemed to have slipped into momentarily, shaking his head and putting his gun back in its holster for a second time. "Jesus Christ," he hissed, "come on, you need to get out of here." He said, turning her around gently before guiding her out with his hand on her back. She tried to ignore how delightfully warm his hand was. He called for backup on his radio just before they left the tunnel.

"Here" he took his jacket off before putting it around her shoulders, seeing the goosebumps on her arms, "are you okay?"

"Who's house is this?" She demanded, her hands guiding themselves through the jacket sleeves, as she stared up at him.

"Excuse me?" He spluttered.

"Who's house is this?" She repeated, annoyed. She needed to call Scott. She needed to call Scott right now.

"Uh, it's the Walcott's." He told her, eyeing the phone that that seemed to have appeared in her hand as if by magic. "Look, you need to try and calm down, okay? And I'm sorry, but you can't call anyone right now, this is a crime scene."

"You don't understand I need to call my friend right now!"

"Look, it's okay Miss Martin, you can call your friends later,-"

"No! I have to call him right now!" She told him, her eyes pleading.

"Look, the police are gonna be here any second okay? Just let us take your statement first." He tried to persuade her.

She merely scoffed at him, before storming outside and sitting down on the front porch.

When the first car arrived, the Deputy strode out to meet his co-worker, as Lydia's eyes followed him, glaring.

Whoever he was talking to did a double take when he saw her, before turning to look wide-eyed at Deputy Parrish.

They took her statement, and the twenty-four year old offered to drive the Banshee home while she called her friend.

"No, it's fine. I can walk, my house isn't actually far from here." That was a lie. Her house was thirty blocks away, but she really needed to tell Scott that his Mom was looking after a Supernatural creature with a taste for human flesh that was probably getting pretty hungry by now.

"You sure?" He persisted.

"Yeah," She shrugged the huge jacket off, before handing it to him. "Thanks Deputy." She began to walk away.

"Parrish." He called out.

She turned around, giving him a quizzical look.

"If you're going to make a habit of finding dead bodies with me, then you should at least call me Parrish."

She gave him a smile and a nod, before Scott picked up the phone.

* * *

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